


Intersect

by Cbear2470



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe, Angry and Fed Up with this Bullshit Yuri Plisetsky, Angst, Aspiring Fashion Designer and Best Best Friend Phichit Chulanont, Bad Ass Viktor Nikiforov, CIA Agent Viktor Nikiforov, Computer Nerd Yuuri Katsuki, Fake Relationship, Fluff, It's Pretty Cheesy Though Mostly, Learning to Be Bad Ass Yuuri Katsuki, M/M, NSA Agent Yuri Plisetsky, Nicest Guy Yuuri Katsuki, Protective Victor Nikiforov, Romance, Slow Burn, The Entire US Government is Apparently Russians but We're Ignoring That, Violence, potential Character Death, spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 15:02:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13504008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cbear2470/pseuds/Cbear2470
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki, after being kicked out of Stanford two years ago, has only just graduated from sleeping on a family friend’s sofa, to being officially given his own room to wallow in pity in about the failure that is his life.Instead of running a multi-million-dollar tech start up or whatever it is he was supposed to be doing by now, Yuuri instead provides IT support as a member of the local electronic store’s Nerd Herd team.On the day of his twenty-third birthday, though, everything changes when he receives an email from his old roommate that uploads government secrets directly into his brain.Suddenly, Yuuri finds himself under the constant supervision of his new handlers— NSA Agent Yuri Plisetsky and CIA Agent Viktor Nikiforov.Now, Yuuri lives a double life, trying to balance keeping secrets from his family and friends with the constant threat of death and destruction that seems to follow him everywhere. Oh, and also his growing very real crush on a certain CIA agent he’s now in a fake relationship with as part of their cover.





	Intersect

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone and anyone and welcome!
> 
> I have a big long explanation about this story at the bottom that you're welcome to read before you start, but I hate massive authors notes at the top of fics, so I’m just putting a TL;DR version here:
> 
> 1\. For the 5% of you who will be like, _this is familiar_ — it is based on the TV show _Chuck_. This chapter follows the pilot closely— any future chapters will be more original. If you have never heard of this show before that's fine, probably even a good thing.  
>  2\. If you enjoy this and want me to continue it, please let me know!!!  
> 3\. Also feel free to check out my other story, [Reckless](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12948174/chapters/29595036)!!!

“Phichit, this is a bad idea.”

“Well we can’t stay here, Yuuri!” Phichit said dramatically despite his hushed tone as he lowered himself out of the window.

“I’m uncomfortable with the plan,” Yuuri shortly whispered in response, nervously flicking on and off the flashlight that Phichit had handed to him, reluctantly playing along with the bit.

“This isn’t a plan Yuuri! This is survival!”

Yuuri sighed and turned to look at Phichit who was now pretending to dangle from the window sill, even though they were in fact on the ground floor.

“Alright, you’re right.”

Just then there was a creaking noise as the door opened.

“We’ve been compromised!” Phichit whisper yelled before diving to the ground below the window sill.

“No Phichit, come on, you can’t leave me like this,” Yuuri said with resigned sounding feigned panic.

“Yuuri? What’s going on?” a woman asked as she flipped on the lights revealing Yuuri’s bedroom.

“Uh, Phichit and I were just, um, escaping.”

Phichit popped his head back over the window sill at that moment.

“Hi Yuuko!” he called. “You look great tonight, by the way,” he added, flashing a 1,000-mega-watt smile.

Yuuko smiled tightly at Yuuri’s longtime friend before turning her attention back to Yuuri.

“Your own birthday party?”

“Yeah, um, you see. Phichit and I weren’t really fitting in there. Because well, everyone out there is all of your friends. And people make me nervous. Particularly your friends because they are all doctors like you. Or at least lawyers. Or food truck owning yogi’s.”

Yuuko sighed.

“I told you that you could invite your own friends, it’s not my fault you chose to only invite Phichit.”

“What friends?” Yuuri asked.

“I don’t know, your other coworkers.”

“Yuuko, you’ve met my coworkers. They’re great and all. Well, great-ish. Sometimes. But they don’t, they aren’t—” Yuuri paused and sighed, trying to find the right words to describe the odd collection of people that he worked with. “See us Buy More employees are kind of more video game playing, sci-fi movie watching, pizza eating kind of people. And what you have out there is business casual attire, an indie-folk-rock playlist, and hors d’oeuvres.”

“Yeah, and none of them get my jokes. Or want to see pictures of my hamsters. Who scorns a picture of a hamster? They’re monsters Yuuko!” Phichit added.

Yuuko reached up and scrubbed her hands along her face.

“Yuuri, that is exactly my point. I have invited, real, live people to this party for you to meet. To network with, to maybe even ask out on a date, or to just make more friends that you know, aren’t Phichit. No offense.”

“Excuse me, I am very offended,” Phichit gasped.

“Please, will you just come back outside?” Yuuko pleaded.

Yuuri sighed, sliding further back down against the wall he’d been sitting against until he was awkwardly slumped in a near lying down position.

Yuuri was grateful to Yuuko for a lot of things. He really was. After he had left Stanford two years ago, with no money and no job prospects, she had offered to let him stay in the spare room of the house she shared with her husband Takeshi in Burbank.

Besides Phichit, Yuuko, and Takeshi, Yuuri had no other friends or family in the US. While he’d been born and grown up in the US, several years ago, right after Yuuri started at Stanford, his parents admitted to deeply missing Japan and told him of their plans to return to take over a hot spring resort in the town of Hasetsu that Yuuri’s family was originally from.

He and Phichit hoped to be able to save up and get an apartment together once Yuuri came back to Burbank from Stanford, but that was now two years ago and Phichit was still living at home with his family and Yuuri with Yuuko and Takeshi.

The second Yuuri made his way back out to the party that was being held in the back yard, Yuuko pounced on him. Yuuri sent a fleeting look at Phichit who only shrugged and made his way over to a table that held a variety of tiny and carefully made appetizers.

“Okay, you are charming, you are adorable, you are funny, you are kind. You are going to be sociable. You can do this,” Yuuko coached while rubbing Yuuri’s shoulders and guiding him towards a cluster of guests.

“Yes, definitely, Yuuri,” Takeshi added, appearing out of nowhere at Yuuri’s side. “Let me introduce you to some of my colleagues—” Takeshi continued as he and Yuuko stood flagging Yuuri on either side in front of a small group of mingling guests.

Yuuri stopped listening though.

He didn’t want to meet Doctor Blabawitz and have to hear about the recent business success of Mr. Shinyhair Threepiecesuit. Everyone in the room was uber successful and led amazing, interesting, complete lives. Yuuri hadn’t graduated college, now worked at an electronics store, and his social life consisted entirely of playing video games with his best and only real friend Phichit.

Eventually he managed to break away from Yuuko and Takeshi’s hovering only to find himself wandering into a hoard of very attractive, put together looking women who seemed to be either kind enough or drunk enough to notice him.

“Are you wearing a costume?” one of them asked, pulling on his tie.

“Um, no, it’s uh, my uniform—I work in the nerd herd at the local Buy More.”

“Oh, that’s so cute,” she gushed. “What do you really want to do?”

“Oh, um—I’m still working on my five-year plan.”

“So Yuuko said you went to Stanford!” another one chirped. Yuuri nodded hesitantly. “I graduated in 2014! What was your major?”

“Um, engineering.”

“Oh my god! I knew this great guy who was an engineer! He was a Kappa and I think he was a dancer too,” she gushed and Yuuri cringed—he knew exactly who she was talking about.

“Chris. Chris Giacometti. He was my roommate,” he muttered.

“Oh, yes! What’s he doing now?”

“Um, I don’t really know.”

“Oh well do you happen to know if he’s single?”

At that moment Yuuri wanted nothing more than to melt into the ground.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 

On the other side of the country, a man in ragged looking and blood-stained clothes that might have once been a very nice suit fell into a large white-tiled room from an opened vent in the ceiling. He groaned and hesitated only a moment before getting up and running across the room to a single computer that stood on a small table. The computer was at least fifteen or twenty years old—a clunky grey box with a separate keyboard in front of it.

Quickly the man plugged a drive into the computer that connected to a small tablet by a series of rainbow colored wires and began quickly typing away. After only a few moments, he lifted his hands up from the keyboard in triumph and quickly reached into his breast pocket to pull out a pair of sunglasses.

“Security breach,” a voice announced distantly over a loud speaker, but the man paid it no mind. Instead, he reached back down to the keyboard, hitting one more key, and the entire room lit up.

Every tile on the wall, the floor, the ceiling, began to rapidly display different images as the computer screen displayed only the message “transferring,” a matching image appearing on the small electronic device at the other end of the wires.

After a few moments of intense light and color surrounding the man on all sides as the images flashed, the entire room went dark.

A moment later the lights went back on, surely as a generator kicked in, and the man heard pounding and yelling from outside the rooms thick medal doors.

Acting quickly, the man stood up and attached a small circular device to the side of the computer. He gave it a twist and a timer began counting down.

The yelling and pounding outside grew more frantic.

Standing up, almost looking casual if it weren’t for the blood soaking through his shirt with increasing frequency, the man took off his jacket and flung it to the ground.

5…4…3…

The man started to run.

Another second and everything behind him exploded.

The intensity of the blast pushed up against him, flinging him into the doors, and blowing the doors off their hinges.

Expecting this, the man recovered quickly, rolling off the door and out of the way of the burst of flames that followed him out of the room.

As he stood and began to run again, there was yelling as armed men in dark, utilitarian uniforms sought to tackle him. Another fired his weapon, but the ragged man dropped to the ground and went sliding across the floor. He rose again swiftly to bicycle kick one of the other men in the chest and continuing to make his way forward, heading up a staircase.

He didn’t stop running until he made his way to the roof, the other men still in hot pursuit.

“Target is on the roof!” his pursuers collective radios announced.

He dove over the cavern of the alley and onto the next building, rolling out of his controlled fall.

He heard helicopters approaching.

He kept running. He made his way off of the building, scaling down the side and finally making an impressive leap down to the parking lot below.

He stood up quickly once again and pulled the small tablet out of his pocket and began to scroll through a list of contacts, looking for one to select.

A shot rang out and the man collapsed to the ground.

“Don’t move,” another man called out, holding a gun out before him and wearing an exceptionally angry looking expression on his face as he approached the other man.

“It’s too late, Plisetsky,” the man lying on the ground taunted as he pressed send with surprising deftness.

The device fell out of his hand as the man lost consciousness.

* * *

 

“Cheer up Yuuri,” Phichit said as he proceeded to vigorously press buttons on his game controller. “At the very least you’ll get to enjoy a nice mini quiche whenever you want until you probably die from the number of leftovers Yuuko was cleaning up.”

Yuuri only groaned and collapsed back on his bed. The party had been awkward and disastrous. He never wanted to interact with another human being that he hadn’t known for more than at least a decade ever again. And maybe not even that.

Just then Yuuri’s open laptop made a chiming noise from his desk, but Yuuri was too busy wishing he could spontaneously combust into a pile of ash to pay much attention.

“Wow, that’s a blast from the past,” Phichit observed.

“What?” Yuuri murmured as he scrubbed his hands across his face.

“Chris remembered your birthday. You know Christophe Giacometti?”

Yuuri sat up from the bed and looked at Phichit, dumbfounded.

“Christophe Giacometti, my college roommate who accussed me of cheating and got me kicked out of Stanford. Yeah, I think I remember Chris.” Yuuri said as he cautiously got up from his bed and made his way over to his computer. He opened the email from Chris to find a file. He hesitantly clicked on it, hoping that Chris had already done enough to ruin his life that he didn’t feel the need to send him a virus.

His computer screen turned black and across it a message began to appear.

_The terrible troll raises his sword_

“Huh.”

Phichit came to lean over his shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Zork, you know Zork? That old text based video game? Well Chris and I programmed our own version.”

“Wow, you guys were really cool. And here you always paint him as some sort of god of sex.”

Yuuri flushed. Chris was charismatic and charming and outgoing (and also the most flirtatious man Yuuri had ever met), and had quickly become to yin to Yuuri’s yang while at Stanford.

But Yuuri had also spend a lot of time sexiled by his roommate. Yuuri was partially convinced that that was the only reason he had been at the top of his class before he’d been kicked out—all the time Yuuri spent in the library while Chris had lots and lots and lots of sex.

But Chris had also been quietly and unassumingly brilliant, and he and Yuuri had a lot in common. They liked the same video games, they both studied engineering, the were both former dancers.

“If only I could remember what was in my hero’s satchel,” Yuuri murmured as he went back to staring at the message on the screen.

Phichit made a choking noise.

“The weapons I would use to kill the terrible troll,” Yuuri elaborated.

“Right, so you’re still really cool.”

Yuuri turned to glare at his friend.

“And it’s time for you to go.”

“Yuuri!” Phichit whined, but Yuuri shook his head and handed Phichit his messenger bag.

“Fine, see you tomorrow morning,” Phichit grumbled as he made his way out of Yuuri’s room.

“Pedal safe!” Yuuri called after him before turning back to his computer to think about the task at hand.

_A ha!_

Yuuri set to typing.

_Attack troll with nasty knife._

He hit enter.

Instantly, a series of images began to play out of the screen, and then kept playing. Yuuri could only stand there are watch, as the images flashed for he could later barely even guess how long.

Eventually though, the images stopped, and Yuuri collapsed.

* * *

 

“Yuuri?” a voice called distantly. “Hey Yuuri?”

Yuuri blinked his eyes open to see Phichit standing above him. He groaned, a headache pounding in his head.

“Yuuri what happened?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Yuuri murmured as he realized he was lying on his bedroom floor. “Did you spike the punch?”

“Something goes wrong and you always blame me!” Phichit exclaimed sounding offended. “But yes, of course I did. You needed all the help you could get last night, my friend.”

Yuuri groaned.

“I’m going to take a shower, then I’ll drive us to work.”

Phichit flopped down on Yuuri’s bed.

“I’ll be here.”

Yuuri went through his morning routine, turning on the radio in the bathroom as he started up his shower.

“Watch out for delays near the airport, security is checking all vehicles,” the radio announced casually, and suddenly Yuuri’s mind filled with information.

Pictures that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he’d seen them flashed in his mind, but each one Yuuri instantly knew meant something—but the message didn’t make sense to him.

Yuuri blinked a couple times in confusion before reaching up to wipe the soap out of his eyes.

* * *

 

“So I registered for my classes this semester at FIDM,” Phichit announced as they walked down the street from Yuuko’s house towards Yuuri’s car.

“That’s great!”

“Most of them are in the evening so I’ll still be able to keep most of my Buy More shifts during the day.”

Phichit, who was a few years younger than Yuuri was enrolled at the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising, with dreams of one day being a designer. Yuuri had gotten him a part time job at the Buy More in sales about a year ago to help pay his tuition.

“Maybe you’ll be able to get a paid internship soon and you can quit.”

“I like working with you though,” Phichit defended.

“Yeah, but one of us has to get our shit together and go on to rule the world, and clearly it’s not going to be me.”

“You could go back and finish you degree and work your way up to a nice cushy six figure tech job or become the next Steve Jobs or whatever if you wanted to Yuuri. You’re the smartest person I know.”

“People who don’t work in STEM related fields tend to tell everyone who does that they’re the smartest person they’ve ever met,” Yuuri defended.

“No, but with you it’s true. You’re a literal genius,” Phichit said seriously.

“Hush you, my head hurts too much this morning for your nonsense,” Yuuri murmured, digging through his pocket for his car keys.

“Do you want me to drive?” Phichit asked.

“Actually, that would be great,” Yuuri said as he tossed his friend the car keys. “Just don’t crash it, we’ll both probably be fired if we wreck a company car.”

“I would never dare consider causing any harm to the mighty Nerd-Mobile,” Phichit proclaimed, bringing a hand to his chest and using the other one to stroke the Nerd-Herd logo on the side of the car.

“Just stay off the 5 because the cops are in a phased…deployment,” Yuuri said automatically as foreign thoughts filled his head.

“Okay?” Phichit said.

“Uh, I heard it on the radio this morning.”

“You listen to traffic reports in the shower now too. Wow, so cool,” Phichit teased as he unlocked the doors.

“Phichit!” Yuuri groaned.

Phichit only laughed.

* * *

 

Back on the other side of the country, in a well furnished but poorly lit office deep within the Directorate of National Intelligence building, Yuri Plisetsky stood facing Yakov Feldsman, a director within the CIA, and Lilia Baranovskaya, a high ranked official in the NSA.

The young NSA agent seemed to be the physical embodiment of disinterest and agitatation as he stood there listening to Yakov speak.

“It was your job to find my agent—to question him, not to kill him. Thanks to Rambo here, we’ve got nothing,” the man barked.

“No,” Yuri snapped. “What you’ve got is a dead CIA agent, which is a gold star in my book.”

“If this gets out—that you killed Chris Giacometti—” Lilia whispered.

“It won’t,” Yuri said quickly.

“Nobody asked you,” Yakov snapped.

“Actually, someone did. Agent Plisetsky is going to be heading this investigation,” Lilia informed Yakov.

Yakov seemed agitated by this information.

“So, what did this computer—the intersect—do?” Yuri asked, getting back to the task at hand so he could get out of this goddamn meeting.

“This computer did everything,” Lilia announced. “After 9/11, the NSA and the CIA were told to play nice, share their intel. This is how we did it.”

“Every scrap of data we had was on that computer,” Yakov added. “It mined for patterns, saw things we didn’t. The data was encrypted into thousands of images. Whoever received Giacometti’s email has all of our secrets.”

“Find those secrets, Plisetsky,” Lilia demanded.

Yuri fought the urge to roll his eyes at the dramatics of it.

“I found this on Giacometti,” Yuri said, pulling a tablet out of his jacket pocket. “The hard drive is fried, but we picked up a trace signal.”

“Where?” Lilia asked.

“Los Angeles,” Yuri shrugged. “Which is perfect, I was feeling a little pasty.”

* * *

 

“Good morning fellow nerds,” Yuuri announced to his Nerd Herd colleagues from where they were huddled around the Nerd Herd support desk at the Buy More. “Today is going to be a rough day. We’ve got a new computer virus on our hands—they’re calling this one the Tonya Harding. With cable subscribers dwindling, more and more people are trying to find other ways to stream the Winter Olympics online and many people are taking less legal avenues. A popular file share and streaming website though was hacked last night, and everyone who tried to watch last night’s events received a virus that crashes their computer. One of our company laptops even fell victim when _someone_ tried to catch up on the figure skating short programs.”

“Hey! Have you seen those costumes? Not to mention the skill and artistry,” Phichit defended from where he was standing over in the electronics section. “And have you seen some of the men’s singles skaters,” Phichit let out a whistle. “You know you love it Yuuri, don’t pretend you don’t.”

Yuuri ignored Phichit and turned back to face his team, continuing to ignore his old friend when he flipped on all of the televisions on display to the news which was finishing up a report recapping lasts nights Olympic events.

“Anyway, call volume will be high today among sports fans,” Yuuri concluded.

“I don’t know if the intersection between sports fans and people who love the Olympics is actually very high,” one of Yuuri’s coworkers Seung Gil Lee said, sounding bored.

Yuuri opened his mouth to respond, but just then another news report caught his attention, and something flickered again in his mind as images began to stream through his head.

“General Robert Allen will be arriving in Los Angeles today to deliver a highly anticipated speech regarding some of the current administrations decisions on foreign policy. The General has recently drawn attention for his criticism of…” the reporter continued but Yuuri was no longer listening.

“But he’s already here,” Yuuri found himself muttering. “He arrived last night.”

“Who is already here, Katsuki?” another coworker, Leo de la Iglesia, asked, pulling Yuuri out from his thoughts.

“Oh, nothing. Sorry. I was just remembering something.”

Leo furrowed his brow and nodded before starting in on his work.

The morning passed slowly, and dully, as it usually did.

“Hey Yuuri, can I come over after work today. Maybe we could use Yuuko’s fancy cable subscription that she pays for with her fancy doctor salary to watch the Olympics without crashing anymore laptops,” Phichit said as he stopped by the Nerd Herd desk.

Yuuri rolled his eyes, “Yeah alright, sure, buddy,” Yuuri nodded, looking back down at a laptop he’d been working on.

“Oh my god!” he heard Phichit call.

“Yes, we can order pizza too,” Yuuri muttered absent mindedly.

“What? No. I mean. Yes, but no,” Phichit babbled. He didn’t seem to find any other words though, and instead just took to slapping Yuuri repeatedly in the arm.

“What Phichit?” Yuuri asked exasperatedly as he looked up at his friend.

But instead of Phichit, Yuuri found himself staring at possibly the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

He looked a bit older than Yuuri, but was still definitely pretty young. He had bright blue eyes, and a face that was the perfect mix of soft curves and hard edges. He was dressed immaculately in a three piece suit, and was wearing an expensive looking overcoat. His hands were clad in leather gloves that hardly seemed necessary in Los Angeles’s mild winter. And then there was his hair—shiny silver in color and perfectly floppy.

The screw driver Yuuri had been holding fell out of his hand and rolled off the desk and onto the ground with a light clatter.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the man smiled and Yuuri had to remind himself to breathe.

“No, it’s alright,” he said quickly. “What can I help you with?”

“Hi!” Phichit beamed at the stranger, speaking before the other man could. “I’m Phichit, and this is my friend Yuuri. He’s a genius, and will be able to help you with whatever it is you need,” he said eagerly. “ _Whatever_ you need, he has lots of areas of expertise,” he added with a wink and Yuuri considered dying right there out of embarrassment.

“Ignore him,” Yuuri muttered. “How can I help you—”

“Viktor,” the man filled in.

“Viktor,” Yuuri repeated back.

“Oh, yes, here,” Viktor said, as he took out a shiny top of the line cell phone and laid it on the counter. “I travel internationally a lot and need to be able to change out the SIM card, but I haven’t the faintest idea how to get the slot open. It said you could just stick a pin in the little hole, but I’m worried it may be jammed or something.”

“Oh, sure, here, let me check it out,” Yuuri said, opening a drawer of the desk and pulling out a little pin. He stuck it in the hole on the SIM card slot and with a little prodding it popped open.

“There you go. You just have to be a little forceful with it, and make sure your pin is long enough.”

"That's what she said," Phichit coughed, and Yuuri sent him a deadly glare.

“Oh, sure, now I feel a bit silly,” Viktor smiled sheepishly.

“No,” Yuuri shook his head rapidly, “It’s alright, definitely happens all the time.”

Viktor smiled back at Yuuri with a smile so bright Yuuri worried he’d be blinded and he felt his heart speed up in his chest.

“Excuse me, excuse me!” a man came running up to the desk, dragging behind him a young girl in a little pink tutu.

Yuuri reluctantly turned himself away from Viktor to face the newcomer.

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“So I broke my phone a couple days ago but I promised I’d film my daughters recital for my wife so I found this old camcorder,” the man said, laying the video camera down on the desk, “and I swore I filmed the whole thing, but nothing will play back.”

“Okay, okay, let’s take a look,” Yuuri said as he picked up the camcorder and fiddled with it. “Oh, uh, there is no tape in here.”

“But it says it’s a digital camera,” the man said.

“You still need digital tape,” Yuuri said dumbly and the man’s face fell.

“My wife is going to kill me.”

“Okay, um, give me a second,” Yuuri said, an idea popping into his head. “Phichit, I need the wall.”

“It’s yours,” Phichit said, running back over to the wall all the televisions were displayed on.

Then Yuuri turned back to Viktor, “I’m sorry, I’ve got to, I’m sorry,” he stuttered, before running off after Phichit and gesturing for the man and his daughter to follow.

A few minutes later they had the camera set up with film in it, and also connected to the television feed. The little girl in the tutu stood in front of the wall, the camera trained on her, and her image multiplying across the dozens of screens behind her.

“You ready?” Yuuri asked as he knelt down next to the little girl.

She shook her head.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never performed alone before. I’m always dancing with all the other girls and I’m in the back too so no one can notice if I mess up.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Yuuri asked.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded.

“I used to do ballet too, but I quit because I would get too nervous. When I was in high school, I even landed an audition for a touring company, but I got so nervous that I blew the audition and I quit dancing right after that. I haven’t danced in public since.”

“Really? That’s terrible!” the girl gasped.

“I know. I regret it very much.”

“Maybe we could dance together,” the girl whispered.

“Sure, why don’t you show me your routine, and then maybe I’ll do it with you,” Yuuri asked.

“Okay!” the girl said, and before the girl could realize that Yuuri had tricked her, he pressed the button on the remote to start her music.

The girl turned out to be a very promising little dancer, with clean lines and good feet. Yuuri looked out and watched as her father looked on proudly. Then he noticed that Viktor was still there, watching. Except he wasn’t watching the girl, instead he was looking directly at Yuuri.

Yuuri quickly turned back to watch the rest of the little girl’s performance. She finished, holding her hands above her head and smiling proudly.

Yuuri and the rest of the onlookers applauded.

“I did it!” she announced breathlessly, running over to her father. Yuuri smiled and turned back to see if Viktor was still there, but instead came face to face with J.J. Leroy, the notoriously pretentious floor manager.

“We’ll have everything back up and running in five minutes,” Yuuri said quickly.

“Do you have any idea what five minutes is in Buy More dollars?” J.J. snapped.

“I, uh, didn’t realize we have our own currency.”

“We’re not stock boys anymore Yuuri! We are leaders. It’s no wonder Celestino wants me for assistant manager.”

“There is a position open?” Yuuri asked, not having heard anything himself. “Celestino didn’t tell me.”

“And why should he? He knows you won’t leave the comfort of the herd,” J.J. taunted before spinning on his heel and stalking away.

Yuuri sighed.

Yuuri didn’t exactly love working at the Buy More, and J.J. was probably right, he didn’t really want to be assistant manager. But he was one of the Buy More’s best employees. He was supervisor of the Nerd Herd. He thought he should at least be invited to apply. Celestino had always seemed fond of him—and Yuuri found himself suddenly paranoid he’d been doing something wrong.

He started making his way back to the desk when he remembered Viktor. Yuuri quickly looked up and surveyed the store, but saw the man no where in sight. Yuuri sighed again and slunk back to his desk, feeling defeated.

“Yuuri! Oh my god. He left you his card!” Phichit gasped, holding up a business card that was on the desk.

Yuuri’s breath caught in his chest, and he smiled.

* * *

 

“Why wouldn’t you call this man, Yuuri? The man was a gift from God. The bible says God created all of us, but no, God created Viktor Nikiforov, and the rest of us were left to evolve out of the mud,” Phichit announced as they walked back up the sidewalk from where they’d parked the nerd-mobile on the street to Yuuko’s house.

“Your family is Buddhist, Phichit.”

“Whatever, the point still stands.”

“It was probably an accident, Phichit. It probably slid out of his pocket when he gave me his phone.”

Phichit looked skeptical.

“Speaking of that, who under the age of forty has trouble popping an SIM card slot? Sounds like a bit of a line to get to talk to you.”

“What are you talking about? That makes no sense.”

“Sure it does. He walks into the store, looking to run an errand and see’s you, Yuuri Katsuki, second most attractive man on the planet—”

“You did not just—” Yuuri interrupted but Phichit interrupted right back,

“Hush. You are a queen, Yuuri, don’t deny it. Anyway, he sees you and is like, _fuck I have to talk to that man,_ and makes up some bull shit excuse to do it.”

“You are being ridiculous,” Yuuri said, feeling blood rush to his face as he stuck his key into the lock on the front door.

“I am speaking the truth,” Phichit said solemnly as Yuuri swung the door open. They stepped inside when Phichit froze. Yuuri looked up and froze too.

Someone was standing in the living room, dressed head to toe in black, including a ski mask covering their face. In their hands was Yuuri’s laptop.

“What is—? Please, not my laptop,” Yuuri whispered. It was a strange thing to say, perhaps, when facing an intruder in your home, but Yuuri had saved up for months to by that laptop, even with his Buy More discount.

Phichit was the first to jump into action, grabbing an umbrella that lay by the door and running at the intruder with it like he was going to joust him.

The intruder tucked the laptop under their arm and effortlessly snatched the umbrella from Phichit, before kicking out a foot that swiped Phichit across the chest and knocked him down.

“Hey, don’t hurt him!” Yuuri cried out, suddenly full of angry adrenaline. He lunged at the attacker, who did not seem to be anticipating such an action from Yuuri, and slightly more clumsily dodged him. In the confusion, Yuuri managed to get his hand on his laptop and pull.

Unfortunately, he only succeeded in dislodging it from the intruder’s arm. The laptop fell to the ground, landing on its corner on the hard tile of the entryway and shattering.

Yuuri gasped and the intruder seemed stunned to, hesitating a moment before reaching down to grab a few pieces of the now exposed and mostly smashed hard drive and rushing out the door and into the night, bumping into Yuuri and knocking him down on the way.

The intruder ran out to a black car parked directly in front of Yuuko’s house, and quickly started the engine before zipping off, dropping the handful of computer parts in the front seat.

With an angry sigh, they pulled off their mask and shook out their hair.

“Damnit,” Viktor Nikiforov hissed.

* * *

 

“I’ve been through it. Maybe if we had the missing pieces, we’d be able to recover at least some files, but most of the hard drive is too badly damaged. I’ve never seen a laptop smash quite this badly from a drop, not unless that drop was off a twenty-story building,” Seung Gil reported, the remains of Yuuri’s laptop carefully laid out in front of him as they gathered in the stock room of the store.

Yuuri sighed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to report this to the police, man? I mean, it won’t help your computer, but it sounds terrifying. What if they come back?” Leo asked.

“I don’t, I honestly don’t think the police will even believe me. And even if they did, there isn’t really anything they can do to help. This didn’t seem like some run of the mill criminal. They seemed trained, in something at least.”

“Maybe you could get an officer stationed outside the house?”

“I guess, if I complained enough maybe, but for how long would they stay? I just—I think I’m going to go next door to Large Mart and buy some new locks. And maybe a gun,” Yuuri groaned before making his way out of the store and to the wholesale store next door.

Yuuri made his way through the aisles, feeling really lost. Locks would be sold in home goods? Or no, hardware. There were a lot of hardware aisles. Maybe with the tools?

The store seemed surprisingly empty. It was midday on a Tuesday, but still the store was devoid of any customers or employees.

Finally, Yuuri found a man standing in front of a shelf of tools.

“Hey, excuse me, do you happen to know where they might sell—" Yuuri began to ask the man as he approached him.

But then the man turned around and looked at Yuuri, and Yuuri’s breath was sucked out of him as his mind began to flash.

Bombing. Yugoslavia. The General.

“What do you want?” he said, his voice threatening.

This man was not a good man.

This man was in fact a very, very bad man.

“I’m sorry, I’ll uh, I’m sorry,” Yuuri mumbled, taking a few cautious steps away from the man. After getting some distance, Yuuri looked back to notice the man was now holding a rather threatening and massive looking pair of bolt cutters. Yuuri walked faster. He heard footsteps behind him, and a clinking sound of metal.

Yuuri ran.

After making it a few rows, he found himself slamming into someone.

He quickly registered it was an employee.

“Oh my god, look, you have to call police. Or security. Someone, anyone. The guy at the front who checks receipts. There is a man here, a very bad man. He’s going to do something, I don’t know, but you have to call someone.”

The woman looked at him nervously, her eyes wide. She reached for a walkie-talkie clipped to her apron.

“What did this man look like?”

“Um. Blond hair. Leather jacket. Kind of scruffy?”

“Like that man?” she asked pointing behind Yuuri.

Yuuri spun around to find himself staring at the man, who was now at the register, smiling politely at the cashier, looking a lot more normal and less murderous.

“What?” Yuuri asked weakly to no one, as the store employee walked away.

Yuuri quickly made his way out of the store and headed back to the Buy More.

* * *

 

In the parking lot, Viktor Nikiforov sat in a shiny black car, and watched as Yuuri made his way back to the Buy More.

“I’ve got eyes on him now. Like I said, the laptop was damaged. I took a few pieces of the hard drive, but we were only able to recover a few files, and none of them had anything to do with the intersect,” Viktor reported over the phone. “Our experts say though that even if we retrieved the rest of the laptop, the chances of finding even a fraction of the intersect files are virtually nonexistent. It was likely damaged beyond repair.”

“Okay,” Yakov said down the line. “It’s done then. I want you in the air in an hour.”

“What? But what if he has an external hard drive or—” Yakov cut him off.

“It’s done Nikiforov. The NSA is stepping in. Giacometti was CIA, he was our guy and he burned us. Plisetsky is coming out. You’re being recalled.”

“Because of Plisetsky?” Viktor scoffed. “He’s too young and hot headed.”

“He’s a killer, Nikiforov, and he may be young but his discipline is old school. He’ll listen to me. What happened with Giacometti you couldn’t have stopped.”

“But I can fix it!” Viktor snapped. “Just give me twelve hours—I’ll find a back up if there is one.”

He didn’t wait for Yakov to speak again, and instead he hung up the phone and got out of the car, making his way to the Buy More.

When he got inside, he found Yuuri sitting slumped over the Nerd Herd desk, muttering to himself.

“I’m going crazy, I’m going crazy, I’m going crazy,” he repeated again and again.

Viktor furrowed his brow and rang the little bell that sat on the desk to try and get the young mans attention.

“Phichit, whatever it is, not now please,” Yuuri murmured without looking up.

Viktor coughed, and that finally seemed to get Yuuri’s attention.

The other man’s head shot up and he looked at Viktor, his eyes widening instantly.

“Hello, um, again. Can I help you?” he stuttered, a beautiful blush tinting his cheeks.

Viktor put on his most charming and flirtatious smile.

“Yes, I think my phone might be broken,” he said.

“Oh, what’s the problem?”

“I think it might not be able to receive calls—because I haven’t gotten one from you.”

Watching Yuuri choke after Viktor spoke the words so silkily instantly became the highlight of what otherwise had been for Viktor a very frustrating day.

“I’m sorry I left so quickly yesterday,” Viktor continued. “I had an appointment with a realtor, I just moved here.”

“Welcome!” Yuuri smiled, seeming to reclaim control of his faculties only for a moment before falling back into an awkward silence.

“And, ah,” Viktor continued, “I don’t really know anyone here, and I was wondering if you would show me around. That is, if you’re free,” Viktor added, feigning just enough endearing sheepishness.

“He’s free!” someone called out from across the store and Viktor turned to see the young man that had introduced himself as Phichit nodding furiously.

“Apparently, I’m free,” Yuuri smiled, his sheepishness, Viktor decided, far more endearing and authentic than his own practiced imitation would ever be.

Viktor smiled brightly back.

* * *

 

Yuri Plisetsky sat in a car parked in front of the Burbank branch of the Buy More, and watched as Viktor Nikiforov walked quickly out of the store, letting out a frustrated growl at the sight.

What has that idiot doing here?

* * *

 

Yuuri came home from the Buy More and opened the front door to thankfully find Yuuko and Takeshi sitting together on the couch instead of an armed murderer, or ninja, or something like he’d worried.

Since Viktor had reappeared at the Buy More and asked Yuuri out, Yuuri’s concerns about being murdered in his sleep had mostly subsided. Instead, he had a whole host of new things to worry about—like that the most beautiful man on the planet had asked Yuuri of all people out.

Phichit came flying in the door behind him, having followed Yuuri home as he usually did.

“Tell them!” Phichit immediately demanded.

“Tell us what?” Yuuko asked.

“I, um, I have a date,” Yuuri murmured.

“With the most beautiful man alive!” Phichit yelled. “God I wish I had pictures to show you guys. In all honesty, if I never find anyone that would be perfectly alright, because if this single date takes all the luck and goodness in the world leaving none left for me, it is worth it!”

“That’s great, Yuuri!” Takeshi said, rising from the couch and walking over to give Yuuri a slap on the back.

“I hope so. With my luck this is probably some kind of set up to have me kidnapped and murdered,” Yuuri announced with a sigh.

Everyone else in the room collectively rolled their eyes.

“The only thing we need to be thinking about right now is what on earth you’re going to wear,” Phichit said, looking at Yuuri’s Nerd Herd uniform with distaste.

Yuuri let out another sigh, knowing he’d not be allowed to leave the house until he’d been dressed better than a Thanksgiving turkey.

* * *

 

“I don’t know about this guy, Yakov,” Viktor muttered, “He’s… sweet.”

“Nice guys aren’t sent government secrets, Nikiforov,” Yakov replied tersely. “And you’re on your own for this one.”

“What should I do if he runs?” he asked, loading his gun and sticking it into the concealed holster on his side under his jacket.

“Kill him,” Yakov said, sounding indifferent.

Viktor cringed as he hung up the phone with a sigh, and then went to flick a speck of invisible dust off his suit just as the doorbell rang.

He flung the door open to find Yuuri standing in the door, wearing what looked to be actually a pretty decent and well-fitting suit, although not as nice as the one Viktor was wearing. Viktor gave himself a second to appreciate the sight, before he noticed that Yuuri was wearing Converse.

He couldn’t help but smile.

Then he realized Yuuri was holding something behind his back, and his hand moved to hover over his hip defensively.

“Hello,” Yuuri smiled nervously, shifting to reveal the bouquet of flowers he was holding behind his back. Viktor relaxed.

“I brought you these. I know it’s um, cheesy. But think of them as a housewarming gift.”

Viktor took the bouquet from Yuuri and allowed himself to take a long, appreciative inhale.

“They’re beautiful, Yuuri. Thank you. Do you want to come in while I get these in water?”

“Sure,” Yuuri murmured and steped inside.

Viktor moved to find a vase from one of the still packed boxes that sat in the corner of his new apartment. He noticed as Yuuri looked around in awe. It _was_ a nice place, a shiny modern high-rise condo. It had come pre-furnished and felt a little too clinical to Viktor, but it had always been impractical for Viktor to make any place home in his line of work.

After the flowers had been taken care of, they left and went out to a restaurant nearby that Yuuri had picked out that served Japanese food.

He had said he thought knowing the food his family made was probably one of the best ways to get to know him, and Viktor’s cold spy heart was almost a little bit warmed.

Viktor was a career first man. He gave up everything for his job, and he was very good at it. But there was a reason why you never hear anyone say, “Oh yeah, my friend is in the CIA.”

Viktor’s life was a lonely one. It was important, what he did was important.

But it was lonely none the less.

And here he was, on a date, with quite possibly it was quickly becoming apparent, the nicest guy in the world.

A guy that Viktor had orders to kill if the other man seemed so much as spooked.

Even though the food was delicious, Viktor couldn’t bring himself to eat much that night.

After dinner, he and Yuuri found themselves walking downtown. Yuuri spoke easily now, with a bit of coaxing from Viktor. He spoke fondly about his friends here, and his family back in Japan. He could be funny at times, even though he clearly wasn’t trying too hard to be.

It was so…nice.

And Viktor had to live with the reality that none of it was real, and none of it could be real even if he wanted it to be.

At the very least though, it was beginning to seem as if Yuuri was definitely a victim of circumstance. There was no way this man could possibly have anything to do with Chris. They had known each other once, but when Viktor maneuvered the conversation to the man he already knew from a file was Yuuri’s college roommate, Yuuri admitted to not having spoken to the man in years.

And why would he? Viktor saw that Chris was the reason Yuuri had been asked to leave Stanford.

But then, just when Viktor was entirely sure that Yuuri was the most normal, least dangerous person he had ever met, something strange happened.

They were walking over a bridge, when a line of police cars whizzed by on the underpass below.

Viktor watched as Yuuri froze and his face went blank.

“Yuuri?” Viktor asked as Yuuri just stood there, his face twitching occasionally, looking like he’d been completely locked into his head.

After another moment, Yuuri finally responded.

“What? Sorry. I, uh, just zoned out for a second.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Yuuri nodded. “Yes, of course.”

Viktor eyed Yuuri with cautious curiosity for another second, before letting a light smile take his face.

“So, where are we going now, anyway?”

“Do you like dancing?” Yuuri said, looking sheepish.

“I love dancing.”

Yuuri’s face lit up and Viktor couldn’t help but let his smile lose its force and become genuine.

* * *

 

Yuri Plisetsky sat in a shiny black SUV, this time in the passenger seat, and watched as Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki made their way down the sidewalk, both of them with goofy grins on their faces.

“Yuuri Katsuki is our mark. NSA wants him with a pulse, unfortunately,” he announced, not hiding his disappointment, to the man in the driver’s seat of the car, as well as the two agents in the backseat. “Until we find out what he knows, he lives. The CIA suit, though, you can kill,” Yuri shrugged and cocked his gun.

They followed them to a club, and Yuuri found himself honestly a little bit surprised. He’d read Katsuki’s file and everything, and the young man didn’t seem like the partying type.

But Yuuri’s character hardly mattered in this instance, or any instance, and so instead he gave the command for him and his men to follow the pair inside.

They made their way into the club, infiltrating it casually but from multiple entrances. Yuri watched as his men swarmed in towards Nikiforov and Katsuki. He was surprised to watch as they danced together, Nikiforov moving his body adeptly, but Yuuri suddenly turning into well, something else.

He knew Katsuki had danced formally until the end of high school, but he didn’t think that that would mean anything now, almost five years later.

He didn’t think it could explain the things Katsuki seemed to be able to do with his body.

Yuri did not know Nikiforov very well, but he could tell the man was surprised by Katsuki. He’d worked with enough spies to know the little tells for when one was out of their depth.

And with Yuuri Katsuki, Viktor Nikiforov was clearly out of his depth.

Yuri hoped it would play to their advantage in capturing Katsuki.

Unfortunately, as his men began to move in, Yuri found out that he was very wrong.

Nikiforov fought a silent and otherwise unnoticeable battle as he danced with Katsuki, pulling blades out of his sleeves and off his ankles and injuring each one of his men enough to render them useless. Every move was fluid and calculated, and Katsuki didn’t have a clue as three men dropped like flies to the ground around him and his dance partner.

And then, Nikiforov was pulling Yuuri by the hand and leading him out of the club.

Yuri narrowed his eyes dangerously as he watched them go, and then quickly hurried behind them while he reformulated his plan, taking out his phone and letting his stand by team know they were needed.

* * *

 

Things had been going really well.

It was actually kind of amazing how well they were going.

Yuuri had never dated very much, but the dates Yuuri had been on had been awkward and terrible for the most part.

But, against all odds, he and Viktor seemed to click.

Yuuri had even taken Viktor to a club and they’d gone dancing and Yuuri hadn’t even needed to get drunk to do so— which never happened. Yuuri hadn’t danced sober, besides maybe a couple embarrassing late night living room dance parties with Phichit, since high school.

But with Viktor, Yuuri wanted to dance.

But then, suddenly, everything had shifted, and Yuuri could not for the life of himself figure out why.

Suddenly Viktor was pulling him out of the club and demanding that Yuuri give him his car keys and get in the car.

“I don’t understand, what’s going on?”

“Give me your keys!” Viktor commanded sharply, sounding a bit frantic.

“But, uh, only Buy More employees are really supposed to drive the nerd-mobile.”

Viktor let out a groan and fished something out of his pocket and jammed it in the lock on the car handle. The car unlocked and Viktor opened the door and slid inside.

“Wait? How did you get in my car?” Yuuri asked, now definitely completely lost.

“Just get in the car!” Viktor yelled, and Yuuri suddenly noticed a big black van screeching as it swerved down the road in front of them, crossing over a median and heading straight for them.

Yuuri quickly got in the car and slammed the door. The second the door slammed shut, Viktor put the car in reverse and stepped on the gas, driving the car backwards away from the approaching van.

“What? What is going on!” Yuuri yelled. “Is that car chasing us? What do they want? Viktor, you aren’t even looking!” Yuuri yelled as Viktor proceeded to drive the car backwards, but seemed to be staring down the van in front of them.

Then the van caught up and rammed their bumper, and at that point all Yuuri could do was scream.

“Oh my god, oh my god! I’m going to die!”

“Yuuri, I need you to calm down. Can you do that?”

Yuuri could not do that.

“Yuuri, can you tell me when to turn?”

“What?”

“Tell me when to turn.”

Yuuri looked backwards out of the car, and spotted what looked to be a side road.

“Turn left in 5, 4…”

“Your left or my left?” Viktor yelled.

“What?” Yuuri said as his mind froze in panic. He’d always been so bad at directions. He held out his hands, which were trembling violently, forming his fingers into ‘L’ shapes.

“Too late!” Viktor called, and turned the car violently off the road.

Suddenly they were careening down a large concrete staircase, the car bumping violently as it went.

They were spat out into an empty parking lot and Viktor brought the car to a stop.

“Listen Yuuri, those men will hurt you. They are in the NSA and they are after you.”

“What? Me?”

_What? What the fuck? What the actual fuck?_

This was not real life. This was a dream. A weirdly vivid dream.

Honestly, that made more sense anyway. Obviously a man like Viktor wouldn’t want to date Yuuri.

God, Yuuri had been fucking joking when he said the date was probably a set up to be kidnapped and murdered.

“What are you talking about,” Yuuri continued, quickly beginning to ramble. “Why me? I’m a nobody. I’m a supervisor of a Nerd Herd team at a Buy More. I mean, maybe some day I could be assistant manager, but I don’t even know if I want that job! I’m no one. I—I,” Yuuri sputtered.

Yuuri looked at Viktor and noticed how the man was watching him with worry clear on his face.

Then he was blinded, as headlights glared through the window behind him and a car smashed into them.

Yuuri blacked out for what was probably less than a minute, but when he came to, he found Viktor trying to pull him out of the car and could hear screeching tires in the distance.

“Come on Yuuri, get out of the car!”

“Huh?” Yuuri mumbled, letting himself be pulled out of his seat and tumbling onto the pavement.

“Come on, Yuuri!” Viktor yelled again, tugging Yuuri up from the ground.

Yuuri found his footing and stumbled after Viktor, making it only a few feet before he found himself tripping over the twisted medal of the nerd-mobiles bumper and falling to the ground.

The screech of tires grew louder.

“Yuuri!”  Viktor screamed.

“Viktor,” Yuuri groaned.

The screeching grew louder and then there was a crash.

Then Viktor was at his side again.

“Come on Yuuri, we have to keep going!” Viktor took Yuuri’s hand and pulled him up, and didn’t let go as they ran across the sidewalk. Yuuri looked back over his shoulder to see the black van smashed into a set of security blockades that had been sprung up in front of the entrance to the parking lot.

A man with chin length blond hair stumbled out of the front seat and immediately began running after them, his weapon drawn.

Yuuri tried his best to run faster.

Viktor fumbled with his phone as they ran, pressing the screen a few times before speaking into it.

“Requesting emergency air vac. Track location, we’re on foot.”

* * *

 

They ran into a nearby building, taking the stairs. Viktor was glad that Yuuri seemed to have pretty decent stamina, but not good enough to run up twenty flights of stairs without needing a break. Unfortunately they didn’t seem to have an option.

They got to the roof and Viktor finally let go of the other man’s hand.

“What do you know about Christophe Giacometti?”

“What, you mean my former roommate Christophe Giacometti?”

“Yes, what do you know about him?”

Yuuri’s face looked extremely puzzled.

“What do _you_ know about him?”

Viktor let out an exasperated sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Chris was a spy with the CIA, like me. We were partners.”

“What? CIA? You? Wait? Chris is a spy? Chris flirts-with-anything-that-moves, Chris I-actually-wear-dorky-glasses-and-write-better-code-than-anyone-has-a-right-to, Chris I-love-my-cat-and-my-overly-affectionate-Swiss-grandparents is a spy?”

Viktor almost could have laughed.

Chris had been one of the most genuine spies he’d ever met, and that was a nearly impossible task in their profession. Maybe that was why in the end he’d betrayed the CIA, because he wasn’t cut out for it. But Chris had never lost himself to the job.

He’d been a great partner for Viktor. He’d kept Viktor grounded, and kept him sane.

“Yes, Yuuri. But you need to tell me if he tried to contact you.”

“What—no. I haven’t spoken to Chris in years. I—I told you that earlier.”

Viktor could tell that was the moment Yuuri realized that this wasn’t a real date—that Viktor had been probing him for information the whole evening.

If Viktor still had a fully functioning heart to begin with, he was sure that in that moment it could have broken as he watched Yuuri deflate, the adrenaline seeming to rush out of him.

Yuuri scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed, and Viktor found himself mimicking the action.

“Wait,” Yuuri said suddenly. “He did. He sent me an email a couple days ago.”

Viktor snapped his head up.

“Did you open it?”

“Yeah, sure. It—it was a line from Zork,” Yuuri explained frantically.

“What?”

“It’s a video game we used to play. It was like a riddle, and I solved it. And then there were pictures. Lots and lots of pictures and I woke up the next morning passed out on the floor.”

“You looked at them?”

“Yeah—wait was I not supposed to look at those pictures?”

“Was there an external hard drive? Did you back it up?” Viktor asked frantically.

“It crashed a week ago, and then my computer was smashed. Oh my god,” Yuuri gasped, with what Viktor knew was another realization about the demise of his laptop.

Viktor caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and saw Plisetsky was approaching.

“Yuuri, okay. Listen to me. I may have to aim my gun at you. So just don’t freak out.”

“Why?” Yuuri asked, sounding terrified.

Then there was a frustrated groan.

“It’s late, and I’m tired. Just give him to me now and let’s go home,” Plisetsky spoke, wiping his eyes as if to demonstrate how exhausted he was of all this bullshit as if _he_ weren’t the one chasing them down in the first place. “He belongs to the NSA.”

The slightly younger agent took a small step towards Yuuri and Viktor pulled out his gun in an instant and had it pointing at Yuuri.

“The CIA gets him first,” Viktor commanded. “Take another step closer and I shoot.”

In another half a second, Plisetsky has his gun trained on Viktor.

Viktor let his eyes dart back and forth between Plisetsky and Yuuri. He found that he almost rather keep his eyes trained only on Plisetsky, because the look of terror in Yuuri’s eyes was painful to witness.

And then Yuuri did something that Viktor knew neither he nor Plisetsky had expected.

He ran to the edge of the building and paused there, poised to jump.

“Yuuri, no!” Viktor screamed. He knew it was a last ditch effort at escape, a moment of fight or flight reflexes, but the thought of Yuuri throwing himself off the building made Viktor sick.

He’d just lost Chris, he couldn’t lose Yuuri now too—as stupid and foolish as that was for him to feel about the man he'd barely known 48 hours.

Thankfully though, Yuuri paused, frozen, like he did before on the bridge.

Then he turned around.

“They’re going to kill him.”

“What? Who?” Plisetsky asked.

“The General. Robert Allen. They’re going to kill him!” Yuuri announced, still sounding panicked.

“What?” Viktor questioned. “How do you know this?”

“I—something is wrong with me. I keep remembering things I shouldn’t know. Something is wrong with me.”

Oh no. No, no, no.

“Yuuri—talk to me. Like what?” Viktor demanded, his mind already grasping the answer.

“Um, I don’t know. Like I knew that the general arrived earlier than announced. And there was that terrorist in the Large Mart. Stuff like that.”

Viktor said nothing, but his breath was ragged as he stared at Yuuri and clung to his weapon that was still pointed at the terrified young man.

“Look, okay, last week the NSA intercepted blueprints of a hotel, _that_ hotel,” Yuuri pointing to a building a couple of blocks away. “And then the CIA collected intel of a bomb built in Prague. The bomb is in that hotel.”

The second Yuuri finished speaking, Plisetsky turned his weapon on him, and Viktor followed, reversing the triangle, pointing his weapon at Plisetsky.

“He _was_ working with Chris,” Plisetsky growled.

“No, Plisetsky, he opened Chris’s email. Yuuri, those pictures were encrypted with government secrets, if you’ve seen them, you know them,” Viktor explained.

“But there were thousands of them!” Yuuri exclaimed.

Plisetsky let out a threatening growl.

“Plisetsky, Yuuri is the computer.”

Something flashed across the NSA agents face, and while it didn’t exactly soften, he did at the very least lower his weapon a fraction of an inch.

“Yuuri, you need to tell us where the bomb is,” Viktor said.

Viktor could see the panic on Yuuri’s face.

“What, I don’t know! I don’t do things like this! I work at the Buy More, and you, you’re trying to kill me!”

Plisetsky lowered his weapon a bit more.

“Katsuki, we’re the good guys. We get paid to keep bombs from going off.”

“But! But I’m not some super spy hero. Call Chris! If you need a hero, call Chris.”

“Chris is dead!” Viktor shouted, growing fed up with all of it. Yuuri’s fear, Plisetsky’s aggression, humanities insistence on trying to blow each other up, the death of his late partner—all of it.

“Chris is dead?” Yuuri repeated.

There was a loud sigh and a shot, and both Viktor and Yuuri turned to look at Plisetsky, who was holding his gun above his head, having just fired a warning shot into the air.

“Yeah, and he’s going to have a lot of company unless you help us out,” he snapped. “Now can we please get to defusing that bomb?”

* * *

 

Yuri was tired. He hadn’t been kidding about that.

And now they were running, again.

Great. Just great.

They made it into the lobby of the hotel when Viktor stopped.

“Wait, we can’t take him in, he’s too valuable,” he stated firmly, gesturing to Katsuki.

Yuri groaned. Of fucking course Nikiforov thought Katsuki was valuable. Fucking CIA agents.

“Fine,” Yuri said, placing a hand on Katsuki’s chest and shoving him to the floor. “Then tell us what to do,” he demanded.

“What? Like what?” Katsuki asked dumbly.

Oh. My. God. He did not get paid enough for this.

“Like how to get there,” Viktor said.

Did they teach this kind of patience over at the CIA or was Nikiforov just a special brand of ridiculous?

“Like easiest? Or fastest?” Katsuki asked.

Yuri let out a frustrated groan.

“Fastest then. Okay.” And then he pulled himself of from the floor and was running.

“Yuuri! No! Wait!” Viktor called out and ran after him as Katsuki trudged right through the middle of a massive fountain that decorated the middle of the hotels ornate lobby.

No. He definitely did not get paid enough for this.

* * *

 

Yuuri was terrified. And his shoes were very wet and making squashing sounds and nearly sliding off his feet as he ran through the hotels hallways trying to make his way to the right banquet hall.

Phichit would kill him for getting his suit all wet.

Phichit would also probably kill him if he died in an explosion.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Finally he found the right set of doors from the map that existed inside his mind.

“Here, it’s here,” he told Viktor and the other agent Viktor had called Plisetsky.

The three of them burst through the doors, some people in the room turning their heads, but many staying focused on the General as he continued his speech like three wet and sweaty men hadn’t just barged into his high security event.

“Where is it Katsuki?” Plisetsky barked.

The bomb. Right. Where was the bomb? Yuuri scanned the room, but nothing came to him.

“I, uh, I don’t know.”

The blond agent growled.

Yuuri scanned more carefully, although it was hard with the panic of his impending death rising in his chest.

Then he saw it. A cart, with a shiny metal dome lid on top.

“That’s it,” he said, pointing.

Then they were running again.

Fuck, Yuuri was so tired.

Viktor got to the cart first and flipped it open, revealing a laptop counting down from about a minute and thirty seconds. Plisetsky tore away the carts skirt to reveal a metric shit ton of explosives.

“No time to evacuate,” Viktor breathed.

Just then panic began to ensue around the room as people seemed to realize what was going on. The General quickly excused himself from the stage, and people around the room rushed for exits.

Yuuri, Viktor, and Plisetsky remained where they were.

“Do you remember anything else about the bomb?” Plisetsky asked.

“I, uh, no.”

Plisetsky groaned and Yuuri’s phone rang.

It was Phichit.

Yuuri knew he probably shouldn’t answer it, but also he was going to die in fifty-six seconds and it would be nice to hear his best friends voice.

“Phichit,” Yuuri said as he answered the phone.

“Hi Yuuri! I know I should wait until you get back but I couldn’t wait any longer! Is it fabulous? Is he amazing?”

Forty-eight seconds.

“It’s going great Phichit, just great,” Yuuri hissed.

“Okay, wow, Mr. Passive Aggressive Pants. You can tell me about it when you get home. Also I used Yuuko’s fancy TV to record the free skate programs for the men’s figure skaters, and you will have to watch it with me, because spoiler alert: Oh. My. God.”

Yuuri would never get to watch the men’s singles free skate because he was going to die in forty-two seconds.

Wait.

“Phichit I love you and I’ll see you really soon okay?” Yuuri said quickly before hanging up the phone.

“Why are you suddenly so optimistic, Katstuki?” Plisetsky barked.

“Because,” Yuuri said, going over to the laptop and relieved to find that it both had a web browser installed, that it wasn’t internet explorer, and that it was connected to the Wi-Fi. "There is this virus that's been going around, that crashes computers. I know this laptop it, it has a DDos overwrite."

Yuuri was thankful for all of the small miracles.

“What? What the hell do you think you’re doing Katsuki? Oh my god. You’re googling the Olympics?” Plisetsky groaned, reaching out to grab Yuuri's arm.

“Shh!” Yuuri found himself snapping. “Just give me a second.”

“We only have twelve!”

“Let him work—it’s our best shot!” Viktor shouted at the NSA agent.

Yuuri found the right page and clicked on the link, the count down clock peaking out from behind the web page still running down.

5, 4, 3...

“I just want you both to know that I hate you,” Plisetsky groaned at the exact moment the computer crashed.

Yuuri held his breath not letting it go until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He turned around to see Viktor beaming at him.

“You did it!”

“I did it,” Yuuri gasped. “Oh my god, I did it! Oh my god, what if I was wrong?”

Yuuri felt Viktor squeeze his shoulder reassuringly, while on his other side Plisetsky muttered something in a language Yuuri didn’t have to be able to understand to know it wasn’t praise.

* * *

 

“I’m taking him!” Both Viktor and Plisetsky shouted at the exact same time once they were back out of the hotel.

Yuuri was still behind them back inside. He said he’d needed to go to the bathroom, and they’d left him behind with another agent.

“He could be an asset!” Viktor defended. “We don’t know what else he could stop!”

“Fine, we’ll drop him in a psych tank and let him stare at four rubber walls for a decade. He’ll tell us what we want to know,” Plisetsky shrugged.

“We don’t know how this works, what triggers the information. He’d break right open!”

“That’s not my problem, I break things, I don’t fix them.”

Viktor groaned in exasperation, and ran his fingers roughly through his hair and Plisetsky blinked, looking bored.

“And what about his life, Plisetsky? What about his job, and his friends and family?”

“What about my friends and family?” a small, tired sounding voice asked.

Viktor spun around to find Yuuri standing there, staring at him.

His eyes were a bit puffy, like he’d been crying.

“Nothing, we were just discussing—” Viktor explained quickly.

“No, no, no. Hold on a second. You have to leave my friend and family out of this,” Yuuri said quickly.

“Well see,” Plisetsky snapped.

“No. Chris sent that email to me, meaning I’m the one remembering your secrets. Which means you have to listen to me, both of you,” Yuuri said, his voice surprisingly firm. “And right now, I’m going to go home.”

“No, you’re not,” Plisetsky said and grabbed Yuuri’s arm.

Yuuri pulled away quickly.

“You—you need me,” Yuuri said before he turned and walked away.

Viktor watched him go.

* * *

 

Yuuri didn’t want to go home.

At first he’d wanted nothing more. He wanted to go home and to curl up next to Phichit on the couch in Yuuko’s house and eat pizza and watch the Olympics and pretend that this entire night never happened.

But then he realized if he went home, he knew he’d have to start lying.

So instead he walked and he walked until he wound up and the beach, sitting in the sand.

He sat there for hours, until the sun began to rise.

Just as the sky turned the perfect shade of golden, someone sat down beside him.

He turned to see Viktor. Somewhere over the course of the night, the man had lost his jacket, overcoat, and gloves, and now sat barefoot in the sand next to Yuuri, shoes in hand, in his slacks and button-down shirt—now slightly unbuttoned.

He looked the way people did at the end of adventure movies, Yuuri realized. Perfectly disheveled.

“How long have you been here?” Yuuri asked softly.

“All night.”

“You could have come down and sat with me earlier.”

“Could I have?”

Yuuri shrugged.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind,” Viktor nodded, looking solemn.

“There’s no where I can run, is there?” Yuuri asked after a moment. “No way to just undo tonight?”

“No,” Viktor replied, confirming the answer Yuuri already knew.

They were quiet. Yuuri stared ahead out at the sunrise, but he knew Viktor was staring at him.

“Talk to me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri sighed.

“Yesterday I was making $17 an hour fixing computers and now I have one in my brain. And I can’t figure out why Chris did this, why he chose me. What are you going to do with me?” he asked. “What happens now?”

“Right now, you go back to your own life,” Viktor said. “Your friends, your job. But we’ll keep you safe and you’ll work with us.”

“And my friends? Are they safe?”

“Tell them nothing, and they will be.” Again, something Yuuri had already guessed.

Yuuri could only sigh.

“I need you to do one more thing for me, Yuuri.” He felt Viktor place a hand on his knee and Yuuri finally made himself turn to look at the other man.

“I need you to trust me.”

Yuuri smiled sadly and Viktor bumped his shoulder against his reassuringly.

_Okay._

* * *

 

“You were out all night!” Phichit gasped, clinging onto Yuuri as he made his way through the front door. “I mean, I’d support it if you were you know, getting some, but considering how you’ve never gotten some before it did statistically seem more likely you’d been kidnapped and murdered.”

_Only almost._

Yuuko came out a moment later, grasping Yuuri from the other side.

“What were you thinking? Not even calling! Never do that to me again! I promised your parent’s I’d look out for you!”

Yuuri sighed and said nothing, instead deciding to wrap his arms around his friends and hold them tightly.

“Oh, a group hug, ay?” Takeshi said as he walked into the room. “Alright, bring it in!” he said as he wrapped his arms around all of them.

_Okay._

* * *

 

Going back to work that day like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t almost died and gotten no sleep last night, was an experience.

He probably could have, should have called into work sick. But he needed a normal day. Sitting in bed would only allow his terror and confusion to fester.

So instead he took a shower, not turning on the radio this morning. He put on his white short-sleeve button down shirt and black tie. Phichit drove them to work.

When he got there, he found an application for the assistant manager position on his desk, with a note from Celestino encouraging him to apply.

He filled it out and went to turn it in, purposefully brushing past J.J.’s shoulder on the way.

He got to Celestino’s office, and the man pointed to a tray on his desk.

“I’m glad you’ve decided to apply Yuuri. You’re too good for this place, the least I can do is get you off an hourly wage and onto a better benefits plan,” the store manager smiled at him warmly.

“I think I’m ready for this, and the responsibility that comes with it, sir, I—” but the other man cut him off.

“Save, it for the interview, Katsuki. We have a new guy I’d like you to train. He’s technically in sales so J.J. should probably do it, but this guy is a little… gruff and I worry that J.J. would end up in a head lock. Honestly, I got a notice of transfer from corporate this morning and then here this guy showing up looking like some Russian cyborg super soldier out of some movie. He’s a Yuri too though, which seems statistically unlikely—but I guess stranger things have happened,” Celestino laughed.

Yuuri forced out a chuckle, but had a sinking feeling.

He made his way back out to the sales floor to find Plisetsky leaning against the CD aisle, wearing the green Buy More polo that everyone in sales wore.

Plisetsky flashed him something that maybe was supposed to be a smile but was forced and a bit twisted and overall just a little too malicious.

Then out of the corner of his eye he saw another familiar face and spun to see Viktor, all dressed up again and carrying a store basket as he strolled down the aisles.

The silver haired man saw Yuuri and flashed him a smile and offered a wave, and Yuuri's heart thudded in his chest.

Then Yuuri caught sight of a ring on Viktor’s finger that he hadn’t noticed yesterday, and there came a flash.

Remembered images flashed, along with what looked like the memory of some surveillance footage in his head.

Viktor, with a gun. Viktor, beating two other men to the ground with expert precision before shooting each of them point blank in the head as they lay incapacitated on the ground. Viktor, turning back to look right at the camera, his expression blank and unaffected, before firing a shot.

_Okay._

_Don’t freak out._

**Author's Note:**

> Story Time: 
> 
> For several weeks now I’ve been trying to come up with a fun AU to work on when I want to write something, but I am not up for writing the trial in emotional labor that is my other Yuri!!! on Ice fic, [Reckless](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12948174/chapters/29595036).
> 
> I’ve gone through several ideas, but none of them stuck. Then yesterday, I deeply wanted to write something but I was very hungover and my mind just could not with original content. And that is when I came up with this fucking brilliant idea.
> 
> This AU is based on the TV show _Chuck_ , which aired in the US from 2007-2012. If you have never seen this show, or heard of it, or if you have but like that was literally a decade ago, that’s fine. This first chapter will probably be more fun to read if you haven’t.
> 
> Also full disclosure, this first chapter is basically a transcription of the pilot— various details are obviously changed, and I reworked most (but not all) of the dialogue— but it follows it scene by scene. If I continue with this though, I hope to veer away from the show and come up with my own story now that the concept is set up. I may borrow some larger plot points or details from the original series, but individual chapters story lines will be more unique.
> 
> Which brings me to my next point— if you enjoy this and would read more PLEASE let me know. Writing this monster of a chapter was an experience (I wrote for about 8 hours straight and then passed out in the middle of the night while trying to edit and woke up feeling more disoriented than I woke up the day I wrote this after an open bar). Coming up with original storylines for this though and then turning out episodic 10,000+ word chapters will be a lot of work. I think it could be fun, and I'm up for it, but I already have a labor of love, I’ll-keep-writing-this-even-if-no-one-is-reading story going (insert another plug for [Reckless](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12948174/chapters/29595036)!) I’ll happily leave this as a one-shot if it turns out this idea was obscure and stupid and poorly written and not as perfect for this fandom as I initially thought.


End file.
